“why do we have to wooooork?” robin groans, stretching and pulling at her face as she flicks on some mascara, the small mirror in your car providing little coverage of her eyes.

the vhs store wasn’t a bad place to work, it was just sort of dead-end, y’know? somewhere that could trap a career if you weren’t careful.

“and it’s fucking january,” the girl continues, throwing a hand up vaguely in the direction of some snow dotted across hawkins’ countryside.

before you even get a chance to ask what’s so bad about january, she continues, “it’s cold, it’s dark at four pm, what’s the point?! we should go into hibernation.”